


we were something, don't you think so?

by trashmouthuris



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alcohol, Eddie Kaspbrak Lives, Fix-It of Sorts, Implied/Referenced Sex, Light Angst, M/M, Mild Language, Past Richie Tozier/Stanley Uris, Post-IT Chapter Two (2019), Stanley Uris Lives, like stan and eddie are alive but richie is still sad sorry king
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-26 11:35:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30105372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trashmouthuris/pseuds/trashmouthuris
Summary: the clown is dead, stan and eddie are alive, and richie needs a drink.
Relationships: Richie Tozier/Stanley Uris
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	we were something, don't you think so?

**Author's Note:**

> title & some quotes are from the 1 by taylor swift because therapy is expensive but this shit is free baby. richie im so sorry

When Richie stumbles down to the townhouse’s bar in the middle of the night, he’s expecting to be alone, although he’s not sure why - after the past few days the losers have had, he’s surprised any of them can stay separated (or sober) for very long.

The clown was dead, and Eddie was alive, albeit missing an arm. Stan was alive, too, having shown up at the Jade of the Orient just in time to hear Richie crack some shitty joke about how he didn’t think he’d show up. It was Stan who greeted Richie when he found himself at the bar, because of course it was. It was always Stan. 

Even in his pajamas he looks more put together than Richie could ever dream of. He sits at the bar in his color-coordinated t-shirt and striped pajama pants, the complete antithesis of Richie’s faded rainbow boxers, mismatched socks, and old tour shirt. Stan seems to take notice of him when Richie makes his way around the bar, greeting him with a soft  _ hey _ . Richie nods in response and starts preparing his drink. 

When he’s finished, he stays on his side of the bar, leaning on it the same way he had before. He finds his gaze drifting towards the ring on Stan’s finger.

Richie had pointedly avoided the topic during dinner - engaging himself in conversation with Bev when he heard Eddie ask Stan about it, making a lewd joke and excusing himself to the restroom when Stan starts pulling out the pictures he keeps in his wallet. But now they’ve fought the clown, they’ve faced their fears, and Richie finally forces himself to confront this one.

“What’s her name?” He asks, nodding to Stan’s ring when his eyebrows drew together in confusion. Stan gives him a tired smile.

“Patty,” he responds. Stan talks for a bit about how they met, their wedding, and how they had been trying for kids while Richie listens and triea not to down all of his drink at once. He was happy for him, obviously, but he couldn’t help but remember when he thought he would be the one spending forever with Stan. They sit in silence for a moment until Richie finishes his drink and starts pouring another.

“I always thought-” the words get caught in his throat, and he thinks he sees Stan start to wince, as if he knows what Richie is going to say. “I always thought it would be us, y’know.”

“Yeah,” Stan says, his voice slightly hoarse. His affirmation draws Richie’s attention, but Stan avoids his eye. “So did I.” He nods to the chair next to him and Richie does as he’s told. When he sits down, Stan finally looks at him again.

“Do you remember what it happened? Why we…” Stan trails off, unable to find the right word for what had happened between them. He doesn’t know whether to call it a break up, a falling out, or something else - though he can’t remember it clearly, he doesn’t remember any anger between them. He mostly remembers sadness.

“It’s been coming back to me,” Richie offers. Stan takes a sip of his drink, listening intently. “I don’t remember many specifics. But I think life just got in the way? We both wanted- different things. And we couldn’t find a way to get them while also staying together.” His words are jilting as he tries to keep his voice from cracking. He’s not sure what to blame for the instability - maybe it’s the alcohol, the hell they’ve been put through this week, or the fact that he’s suddenly being bombarded by memories that he’d really rather not relive.

When he shuts his eyes he sees an airport, and a much younger Stan wrapped around him so tight he thinks they might need to be surgically separated before Stan can board his plane. He’s doing a much better job of holding back tears than Richie is, though the hurt that spreads through his limbs and hollows out his chest is all the same. They’d tried everything they could to stay together - looked for different jobs, different cities, different opportunities - but when it all came down to it, it seemed as if the universe just didn’t want them to be together.

“We promised to stay in contact, and I think we did in the beginning, but.. you know.” Richie says. Stan does know. He pinches the bridge of his nose, lifting up his glasses a bit, and mutters what Richie thinks is  _ this fucking town _ under his breath. (He also thinks it might have been  _ clown _ . Either would be correct, really.) Then, unexpectedly, Stan lets out a small laugh.

“I used to see you everywhere,” he says. “Even after I started to forget you. I’d see some lanky guy with stupid glasses at the bus stop, or at Whole Foods or something, and think I knew him.”  
“Well, your first mistake was thinking that I shop at Whole Foods,” Richie shoots off before he can stop himself. He almost regrets it until Stan starts laughing again. They start to reminisce about some of the happier memories, twin-size dorm beds pushed together so they could cuddle and late night trips to 7-Eleven for ice cream and mouthwash. Richie thinks about how much fun they could have had if they’d stayed together.

“I still remembered us, even though I was forgetting you,” Richie admits. Stan brings his brows together once more, asking for clarification. “I remembered being with someone and then feeling like shit when we broke up, even though it was for the best. I just assumed you were off somewhere meeting other people and taking them home.” Stan gives him a sad smile, and Richie wishes he hadn’t killed the mood again. “I mean, I certainly hope you were taking them home. I’m a firm believer that everyone that is of legal age and is a good person deserves to be fucked by Stanley Uris at  _ least  _ once in their lives.”

Stan’s eyes widen, his face quickly turning bright red, making Richie laugh. Richie raises his glass to Stan and takes another drink. He’s struggling to get through this conversation without it, no matter how many jokes he makes. 

Once the room falls silent, Richie braves another glance at Stan. He couldn’t tell if this conversation hurt him as much as it did Richie - after all, Stan had a happy marriage to go home to. While Richie had had some substantial relationships in their time apart, nothing had ever felt quite right. It took his return to Derry to finally figure out why. He would have been surprised to find out that as he wondered this, he and Stan had the same question on their minds: if one thing had been different, would everything be different?

Their question goes unasked and unanswered. Richie loses track of how much longer they sit there, mostly in silence, save for when Stan checks the time on his cell phone and notes that he should probably get to bed soon because he has an early flight the next morning. He rinses out his glass and replaces it on the bar before giving Richie a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Don’t forget me this time, okay?” He asks softly, and before Richie can reply that he would rather play Truth or Dare with that bitch ass clown than do that again, Stan disappears up the stairs.

Richie stays at the bar for a bit. He downs another drink and forces himself to give up on the pity party that he’s thrown - he’s happy for Stan, truly. He just cannot stop wondering what they could have done differently to stop themselves from ending up like every other miserable bastard in this town. When he finally makes his way upstairs, Stan’s door is firmly shut, and there doesn’t seem to be any light or movement coming from behind it. The next morning, Richie wakes up alone. 

**Author's Note:**

> taylor swift didn't lie that forever sure is the sweetest con  
> come yell at/with me on tumblr @trashmouthuris


End file.
